


lumos

by punkrockbadger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era, POC Potter, newsflash-- nope, tbh i keep tagging things w/ poc potter like i'm gonna write white potters eventually, yet another sirius runs away fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s two in the morning, at least you think it is, because Visalakshi and Janardhan have been asleep long enough for you to finish an entire book without being interrupted. Your wife and son are very loud people, and you often wonder how you manage to survive in a house full of gregarious, intensely social beings when you are so extremely opposed to having your work interrupted.</p><p>It’s two in the morning when you hear the knock on the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lumos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bibesties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibesties/gifts).



> Felix, Felix, Felix. I could say a thousand and one good things about you, and there would still be millions more left unsaid. I hope you have the happiest of birthdays and that this fic ranks somewhere in the "alright present" category. Love you! <3
> 
> [Tell Felix happy birthday here!](http://www.transmabel.tumblr.com/ask)

[Narayanan]

It’s two in the morning, at least you think it is, because Visalakshi and Janardhan have been asleep long enough for you to finish an entire book without being interrupted. Your wife and son are very loud people, and you often wonder how you manage to survive in a house full of gregarious, intensely social beings when you are so extremely opposed to having your work interrupted.

It’s two in the morning when you hear the knock on the door.

Your wand is in your hand before you hear the second knock, and you are off down the hall to the stairs, taking them one at a time. Were you anything like your son, you’d be sprinting down them, taking two or three at a time in an attempt to get places faster, but you are hardly anything like him. No, you let the person at the door wait, because they’re either dangerous or inconsiderate to be bothering you at this time in the morning.

You aren’t expecting what you see, upon opening the door.

It’s that Black boy, Orion’s son, the one your sister-in-law Dorea keeps worrying about. Your son’s best friend, you realize belatedly, as you watch him shiver and-- are those tears? Is he crying? It’s raining, but that can’t be rain on his face. You’ve never been good with crying children.

“Sirius?” You ask carefully, stepping aside to let him in. He stumbles in eagerly, as if he has been waiting outside awhile. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes sir.” He says, sounding much more chipper than he looks. “Completely fine.”

“Good to know.” You ruffle his hair, which has nearly been shaved off, and wonder what happened that brought this boy to you. Janardhan and Visalakshi have lavished their attention on him since the time the boy ended up at your house the first time, but you’ve never seen what they did in him. He’s quite the troublemaker, this one, dragging your son into things he should know to stay well clear of, and you’ll be keeping an eye on him. “How long will you be staying?”

Sirius’ tenuous calm breaks and he sobs openly, chest heaving wildly, and you don’t know how it happens, but your arms are around him in a split second. Your shirt is growing wet, but you don’t mind-- the last time you remember this feeling, your son was throwing up on you. Tears are easier to clean.

“Don’t know.” He forces out, after a few minutes. “I don’t know. I-- They burned me off the tapestry and I had to watch and-- I’ve only got a couple sets of clothes and my trunk, I can’t even-- I’m sorry--”

“You can stay as long as you need.” You say, because that is the right thing to do. You will call Dorea in the morning, ask her what’s happened, and then make your moves from there. What matters is that this child is safe, and has somewhere to call home while things are settled. And here is as good a place as any. “We’ll find you a room, and some of Janardhan’s clothes should still fit, if you run out before the laundry gets done.”

Sirius nods, and you try to smile at him, even though your son has told you on multiple occasions that your smile is not very comforting. You can put in a little effort, for this boy who saw your family as the safest place to be. Sirius brightens up, apparently recognizing your intention, and you slap his shoulder before pointing him up the stairs. He’ll end up in your son’s room anyway, no matter how much you try to keep them apart, so why not let him choose that on his own?

You make your way back up the stairs, one at a time, and go back into your study. There is a book you’d like to finish before you sleep, and the more time you spend thinking, the less sleep you’ll get.

* * *

 [Visalakshi]

There is someone else in your son’s room.

You feel it when you check the wards in the morning, like you always do, and your wand is out and at the ready as you walk down the hall to Janardhan’s room. Your boy is safe, but someone else is there. You throw open the door, ready to curse someone, and find your son fumbling to hold up the towel wrapped around his waist.

“Amma!” He screams, outraged, as he fumbles through his underwear drawer one handed. “Why do you always do this?”

There’s a lump on his bed still, a head of buzzed short black hair visible at one end of a cocoon of blankets, and that must be the the intruder. Janardhan notices where you’re looking and laughs, shaking his head. “Amma, it’s just Sirius. No need to panic.”

“Sirius, of course. Explains why he hasn’t woken, despite your screaming.” You reach up to smack your son’s head, and find that you can’t reach it anymore. He’s been taller than you since he was eleven, so this is nothing new, but you can’t help but wonder if him growing up also means he’s growing away from you. “Put some clothes on and then come downstairs. God doesn’t wait for lazy bums like you.”

Janardhan laughs again, eyes alight, and nods. “I’ll let Sirius sleep if you let Appa. They had a long night.”

“Deal.” You say, and make your way downstairs to start your morning prayers. Your son’ll be along in a second, and your husband will wait another few hours before making his entrance, but that’s to be expected. It’s six in the morning, after all, and you, an early sleeper and early riser, made the mistake of marrying a man who refuses to get out of bed before noon on the weekend. At least your son is like you, or you’d go mad trying to get them both up at a reasonable hour.

It’s nice, having Sirius over, almost like it was supposed to be this way-- a matching son for your husband, and a matching son for you. You hope he stays a little longer this time, seeing as your house is as close to a home as he gets. He never says it, the poor boy, but you can tell by the look in his eyes. Like a kicked puppy, you said one time, and Janardhan fell out of his chair laughing. Perhaps Sirius will tell you why that was so funny.

You and your son are making breakfast for four an hour later when Sirius stumbles down the stairs, eyes still heavy with sleep, and you ruffle what’s left of his hair before pointing out the fourth chair at the table. “Sit down. You won’t last half an hour more if you don’t get anything in your stomach.”

He smiles, more tentatively than you’ve ever seen him before, and your heart goes out to him. Sirius is a bright little boy, full of fire and ideas and dreams, and you can’t believe that such a lovely child was given to parents who dared not to value him. You do all you can while he is here, but he is only here for a few short weeks and, in the big picture, that is nothing compared to the years he has struggled through with them. And you can hardly think of Sirius as a little boy either, not when he too towers over you, long-limbed and thin faced.

“Thanks, Mrs. Potter.” He says, sitting down in the chair you’ve pointed out. “You don’t know how much this means. Letting me stay, I mean.”

“I always wanted two boys, Sirius. Think of it as humoring me for awhile.” You say, and, judging by the way his eyes light up, you said the right thing.

* * *

 [Janardhan]

You don’t end up talking to Sirius until after breakfast, when you are both sent out to play. Amma’s still convinced that you’re both twelve, and will still play out here in the grass for hours and only come back in just in time for dinner. All being alone leads to now is talking, and uncomfortable conversations, and you can feel one coming now.

Sirius is lying in the grass, staring up at the clouds, and you are sitting next to him, knees drawn up to your chest. He won’t start talking, because that’s always been your job-- ask the right questions, get the right responses, get the ball rolling. The few times you’ve seen Regulus in the halls, he’s gotten answers out of Sirius in seconds. You’re not sure whether you want to beat Regulus or be him, but you can’t shake the feeling that Sirius is always trying to replace one of you with the other.

“Appa says you’re staying for awhile.” You start, because that is all you really know. Appa pulled you aside after breakfast, saying that he was off to call on your aunt and uncle to settle some things with Sirius, and telling you to make him as comfortable as possible here, as he might be staying awhile. You couldn’t shake the feeling he knew something you didn’t, but that’s always been how your father operates-- information is shared on a need-to-know basis. It comes with being an Auror, really, which is why you kind of, sort of, would rather not be one. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Sirius says. “That cloud looks like a tiger.”

“Off topic.” You say, which is kind of ironic considering Sirius is usually the one stopping your tangents. “What happened last night?”

“Went off on a nighttime stroll with all my things, and then ended up on your place at accident.” Sirius says, voice dripping sarcasm. “What do you think happened?”

“She finally did it then.” You say, softly. You have all felt this coming for years, felt the beginning of an earthquake in letters and pretended not to see Sirius’ tears, and the fact that the information doesn’t surprise you, but settles heavily like a weight in your stomach is telling. “She took you off.”

“It’s over.” Sirius says, and you think he might sound hopeful. “I’m free.”

“And you’re here, which can’t be too bad.” You point out, scooting a little closer. Your thigh presses up against his arm, and he lifts his hand from where it’s grasping at grass to place it on your knee. There will be dirt and grass stains on your pants, and Amma will be mad, but it is worth it. “Me and Amma and Appa, we’ll fix everything.”

“Yeah.” Sirius says, nodding, and you can’t be hearing things this time-- he does sound happy, like he did on the train before your first year. You wonder if you have made him happy since then, how long it has been since his voice has lifted in joy, but those things always hurt to wonder about for a reason. You push the thoughts out of your head, and keep going forward. “I’m glad your dad took me in. Could have turned me out, and then where would I go?”

“He wouldn’t have.” You say, shrugging. “Worst he would have done is wake me, and then you’d have stayed anyway.”

“I guess so.” Sirius says, and you reach down to squeeze his shoulder. “Your mum says I’ve always got a home here. Guess she was right.”

“When has she ever been wrong?” You ask, sounding appropriately world-weary, and Sirius laughs, a bright, sharp thing that you hadn’t realized you’d missed.

“She should be the Minister of Magic, really.” He says, in between laughs. “Would have everyone folding their clothes and brushing their teeth properly. It’d be a miracle.”

“Agreed. Amma for Minister, hands down.” You look over to see Sirius grinning, and hope that this is the start of something good.

He really deserves it.

 


End file.
